Gleeful Island: Klaine Revival
by imaginess
Summary: Thirteen people and a baby are stranded on an island after their plane crashed on its way to America from England. Drama ensues. Multi-chapter, Klaine-centric, mpreg, pregnant!Blaine. Also includes: Cohen-chang-chang, Brittana, Samcedes, Pilot Schuester, CrazyBitch!Quinn, and eventual Finchel. Co-written by Patricia Sage.
1. Chapter 1

**This story was written in part by Patricia Sage, however I take all credit for it! MWA HA HA. Just kidding. My lovely sister re-wrote this whole thing but the plot is originally mine so I published it even though she did all the work. Woohoo! Anywhose, onward and upward my friends (What is that from? If you can tell me I will send you a gift basket full of kittens). **

**CHAPTER ONE**

"Did you get our tickets?" Kurt Hummel asked his fiancé when he returned to the seating area.

Blaine Anderson sat down beside him with a sigh. He couldn't wait to get back home to their New York apartment. "Yep. We'll be boarding right away." His tanned features were shadowed by creases of discomfort.

Kurt noticed the way Blaine's hazel eyes glanced around him every few moments. "Hey," he said softly, prompting the other man to look at him, "What's wrong?"

Blaine shrugged in a non-committal way, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. Kurt couldn't help but admire his arm muscles in the red T-shirt he wore. As the weeks went by, Blaine had gotten a mixture of comfortable and self-conscious about his current condition. Losing his hard-earned six-pack was tough, but it was really the staring that bothered him as his stomach grew.

Blaine Anderson was seven months pregnant.

Kurt leaned over and placed a kiss on his fiancé's cheek. "Just wait until we get home, okay? Then you'll feel better. Things will get back to normal." Blaine nodded and gave the other man a smile. It wasn't completely genuine, but it was something.

"Let's go, Kurt. They're boarding in a few minutes." Kurt nodded and stood. He stretched and yawned—neither of them had gotten a very good sleep lately. Blaine held tight to Kurt's hand as they went through the procedures until they got to the plane. They passed their tickets to the ticket man and got on the flight. Their seats were near the back of the plane, so they watched absently as the other passengers trickled in. The airplane was small—it could only fit about twenty people—but Kurt and Blaine could care less. All Blaine was thinking about was getting home.

"How long is this flight?" Blaine asked, sighing as he relieved his back of the stress it was feeling. His stomach wasn't that big, but he was still sore and tired all the time. He fished his iPod out from their carry-on bag.

"About five hours, honey. You'll survive." Kurt gave him a quick peck on the lips and squeezed his hand. At the minor display of affection, Kurt heard a discreet but disgusted comment. He looked around the plane as his fiancé placed the earphones into his small ears and turned up some Katy Perry. Nobody was glaring at them pointedly, so Kurt relaxed.

A pretty black woman caught his attention because she was seated beside a boy that was around five years old an obviously her son. Kurt smiled a little at the boy, thinking that in a few short months he'd have a kid of his own. The child pointed right at Blaine and said something to his mom. Kurt watched as she gave him a look and scolded him.

The woman looked back at Kurt and Blaine to see both of them watching and gave the shorter man an apologetic smile. Blaine smiled back at her in silent forgiveness. He'd dealt with much worse than a nosy kid in the past seven months.

"I hate when people stare," he muttered, and the taller man just nodded.

"It'll only last just two more months," Kurt said, placing one of his hands gently over his lover's stomach. They looked up as an announcement was broadcast-ed over the small plane.

"Please fasten your seat belts; three minutes 'til takeoff."

* * *

Mercedes Jones arrived at the airport with her five-year-old boy in tow. She planned on boarding a plane and flying back to America to live with her parents. Devin's father was the main reason that she was leaving England; He had slowly started drinking more, and was now too dangerous to leave her child around. She still loved him, somehow, but she also knew that they couldn't work out unless he sobered up and got his life together.

She got on the plane and took a seat in the middle. Mercedes let Devin have the window seat to preoccupy him and sat back, exhausted. However, her relaxation was short-lived. She soon felt her son moving around and she looked to him. He was turned around in his seat and pointing at something at the back of the plane.

"Mommy, those men were kissing!" he said in an accusing voice as if he were telling on them.

"Devin, don't point! That's very rude." Devin put his arm down reluctantly.

"But, Mom-"

"No, Devin, just ignore them." Mercedes turned and saw one of the men at the back of the plane watching her almost sadly. She smiled apologetically and gave a small wave. The curly-haired one smiled back and turned to his...friend? They shared a brief conversation and the paler man place one of his hands over the other's stomach. She was a confused and felt ridiculous for making the conclusion that she eventually came to because it was completely unrealistic. Obviously, by the way they looked at each other, they were together. But there's no way he could be…

She shook her head and turned to the front of the plane again, vaguely watching the woman go through the emergency drills—it's not like they'd actually have to do any of that. Mercedes thought she should probably apologize further for her son after they landed, for she truly didn't think anything wrong with them showing their love. She heard the speaker announce take off soon and buckled herself and Devin into their seats.

* * *

Sam waved to his best friend and Mike made his way toward their seats. They had just been hiking in the mountains and they now had to fly back to their home in the USA. Mike had to get back because school was starting. Sam lived not far from him and worked at the nearby mechanic shop.

They buckled up in their seats and waited for take-off, discussing what the new year of work would bring them.

* * *

Rachel Berry regarded the other passengers with interest. They were all very different looking and it looked like nearly each one was a minority. She noticed a gay couple, a black mother and son, a man with a disability and an Asian couple. There was a snotty-looking, young blonde lady with a baby, a tall and handsome man beside her, as well as a big-mouthed surfer dude, a pretty blonde girl discussing the number of blueberries in each cracker with the flight attendant that was just trying to keep going down the isle with the cart of food, and a Latino girl. Really, what a group! Rachel thought that this would make a fantastic musical…for her to star in, of course. They could make vaguely stereotypical jokes without being insulting and everyone would become fast friends besides their obvious and subtle differences. Fantastic!

Rachel smiled to herself as a thought came to her: she was more of a minority than any of them. She was Rachel Barbra Berry—one of a kind. She probably had more star quality and potential then all of them put together.

She had to remind herself of that every now and then, to keep her confidence in check.

Rachel had just decided to head back to United States, after her fellow performers in the theater production at her old collage called her and told her that they needed her to fill in for the lead actress and her understudy, who both had some monkey-flu or something. Fate, really. She would make sure they were forced to admit that she was the most dedicated and talented performer in the arts, and then maybe they would phone up their director friends on Broadway and tell them how amazing she was... Yes, good plan.

Rachel was interrupted from her day-dreaming by some creepy red-head with an afro who introduced himself as Jacob. She tried not to look too creeped-out when he took the seat beside her without asking and pulled out a pad of paper and started writing notes on it. She rolled her eyes dramatically. This was going to be a long flight...

_-One hour later. Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.-_

Blaine was half-asleep when he heard a loud bang and felt the plane give a shudder. He sat up and looked at Kurt, who was frowning, taking out his headphones and looking out of the window.

"What was that?" Blaine asked. It was the voice he used when he tried to force others—and himself—that he wasn't nervous about something.

"I'm sure it was nothing," Kurt said, taking his hand. His confidence quickly disappeared as he felt the plane give another jerk, and it lurched to the side.

"What's going on?" A woman asked hysterically from somewhere ahead of them.

"We are experiencing some difficulties, but please remain seated."

The plane, however, was not just 'experiencing difficulties'. There was, in fact, a blown engine…and they were about to plummet to their death. The pilot issued a command to his co-pilot to get the passengers to jump but—to his dismay—it was too late. The plane blew another engine, and its nose started to dip. The pilot, William Schuester, pulled his hardest on the controls, but nothing changed.

"No!" he yelled, and tried his hardest to regain some control on the direction of the plane. He finally got it to sway a different direction and he pointed it straight towards a small—yet growing fast—piece of land. He shouted for someone to send a distress signal back to base but, while he was busy, he didn't notice that his assistants had already deserted him.

He could now see the outline of a forest on the small island and he headed for the clearest part, which happened to be the beach. Within minutes, he was pulling back frantically to avoid a head-on collision.

**Cliff-hanger! Are you scared? You should be. **

**Please please please drop a review on the way out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

The plane had landed in a relatively good position, although three people had unfortunately gotten out of their seats and died on impact. Seven were injured, but the worst was a broken arm. Once they had crash-landed, Will was the first to recover and get out of the plane. He wasted no time and hurriedly pried the crumpled door open to get the passengers out. Most of the survivors were out of the plane and they were all either silent, crying, or—in Rachel Berry's case—screaming and running around.

About an hour after the crash, most people were still trying to recover from the shock of what had happened. All around the beach that they found themselves on, one could hear the whispers and sobs of small groups of people trying to take comfort in each other.

Mercedes sat with Devin, trying to calm him down. The boy was crying and he wouldn't talk to her. He hadn't been wounded during the crash, and the worst injury Mercedes had received was a cut on her arm from when she had gotten out of the bent-up plane. After being ignored for the thousandth time, she looked up to see a man about her age, with a ridiculously large mouth and bleached-blonde hair.

"Hey, I'm Sam," he said. She took his outstretched hand and shook it. "The guy who has taken charge is organizing all the bags that we got out of the plane, and he asked that everyone come over."

"Why?" she asked, absently rubbing her son's back.

"Because we're getting all the luggage off the plane and we're gonna identify what belongs to which people." Sam gestured over to the three men standing by the plane, prying off a chunk of metal to get to the bags.

"Okay," Mercedes said, but she hesitated to get up and leave Devin. She looked up at Sam, "Do you mind just staying here with him for a minute?" Sam nodded, and she smiled at him gratefully. For the record, she usually wouldn't trust a stranger with her kid, but she didn't think that he would try anything when they all were stuck on an island with nowhere to hide. And he seemed pretty nice.

When she arrived at what used to be the plane, she quickly told the pilot which bags she needed, and then turned back to her son to see him talking with the blonde man. She came closer to him and overheard some of their conversation.

"It's called football!"

"Only in England; In America we call it soccer."

"But why? It's called football!"

Mercedes couldn't help but smile, and she decided to trust the stranger and let the boys talk for a while. She looked around the beach, and noticed the men who Devin had rudely pointed at. They were sitting by themselves, comforting each other quietly. The taller one was crying and the curly-haired one was holding him close and appeared to be reassuring him. Mercedes decided that she might as well talk to them and get that apology over with, so she walked over to where they sat and took a seat on the sand in front of them.

"Hi, I'm Mercedes." She smiled gently and held out her hand.

"Blaine," the shorter one stated. He kept one arm around the softly crying man, but shook her hand with the other one. It had a stark white bandage on it and she handled it gingerly in case it caused him pain.

Mercedes looked at the pale man softly, "Are you alright, honey?"

He looked up at her with bright blue eyes and wiped his face in an embarrassed way. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just…shaken, I guess," he got his crying under control with a couple deep breaths before introducing himself, "I'm Kurt."

"Nice to meet you," she said, then she remembered why she approached them. "Oh, I just wanted to apologize for my son on the flight earlier. He's young, and he doesn't quite get that it's rude to point."

Blaine nodded his head. "It's okay, don't worry about it," he said politely, "I get that all the time."

After an awkward pause, Mercedes attempted to make small-talk. "What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"It got caught in between the chairs when we crashed...Kurt thinks my fingers might be broken, but the nurse is too busy with her boyfriend's arm to look at them." Blaine explained, gesturing to woman with blue streaks in her hair. She was wrapping up the arm of the tall Asian man.

"Oh...That's too bad," Mercedes said absently, "We're lucky that we have a nurse here...just in case."

"I guess," Blaine said, but that seemed to trigger something in his mind and he looked a little distracted and worried. He absently placed a hand over his stomach. By this time, Kurt had gotten his panic under control.

"Listen, Blaine, I couldn't help but notice...I mean...I know it's kind of stupid..." She decided to just ask, "Are you pregnant?" Both of them looked at her warily, and she felt utterly stupid for asking. What was she thinking? Of course he wasn't! There was all of, what, two male pregnancies in history? What were the chances that—

"Yes," Kurt said suddenly, surprising her, "We're expecting a child." Blaine had a protective arm over his stomach, watching her closely for her reaction.

Mercedes smiled, "Wow. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Kurt said. He looked happy that he had judged her personality correctly. Blaine just looked relieved that she wasn't going to ridicule them.

"I'm honestly just curious; I'm not one to judge." Kurt's smile widened at that, and both men became more relaxed.

There was a silence in which the three of them solemnly watched the other people scattered on the beach. "So, um, why were you on this flight?" Kurt asked. Mercedes was glad that he was no longer hysterical. He still leaned heavily on his partner, though.

"I had to get away from my life there…start over. I was taking Devin with me to live in Ohio with my family." Kurt nodded. "What about you guys?"

"Kurt knew that I wanted to see new places, so he booked us a flight to England for my birthday—before I become too tied down with the baby," Blaine replied, "I've always loved traveling, but never airplanes...I guess now I have a big reason not to like them…"

"I'm sure we'll be okay, though," the woman encouraged, "I mean, the guy in charge seems pretty confident of that." They sat in silence for a while, until Mercedes brought up a question she was dying to ask, "How far along are you?"

"Seven months, two weeks."

"Well, you sure don't look it! Do you know what the gender is?" Kurt looked down at his partner, and then at Mercedes.

"No...Blaine loves surprises too much," He admitted with a fond smile over at his partner.

The two men and Mercedes talked for a bit about what medications Blaine had to take, doctors' visits, and things that they had in common (which was a surprising amount). They both were shocked to find that the sun was setting when they were snapped back to reality by the pilot's voice. He was calling everyone to the plane.

Sam and Devin had talked for a while, and Sam found that he really like the kid. Plus, Devin was very amused by his impressions. Eventually, the eventful day caught up on the boy, though, and he fell asleep.

Sam made the boy more comfortable before making his way over to where Mercedes was sitting.

"Hey, Devin fell asleep on the beach over there." Sam said to the mother and Mercedes smiled.

"Alright, thanks for keeping an eye on him." she said, and he nodded.

Before they could continue their conversation, they were approached by a tall, lanky man. "Hey guys, the pilot wants everyone over by the plane."

* * *

William Schuester tried to remain calm as he helped organize the luggage from the fallen plane. Everything had happened so quickly-the engine blowing, the plane crashing, getting everyone out-and then there were the bodies. Three people had died in the plane, and he knew he needed to deal with that. He had taken on the role of leader the minute they crashed on the island, telling people what to do and deciding on a course of action following the disaster. Now that the bags were all organized and everyone was off the plane and scattered about the island, he had to tackle a very difficult situation.

He gestured for the tall man-Finn, he believed he was called-to come over, and the man left the side of the pretty blonde woman to make his way over to the pilot.

"Hey, would you mind getting everyone to gather around. I think we should all have a talk." he suggested.

Finn nodded. "Sure, man."

Mr. Schuester watched as the man went around the beach and told everyone to go to the plane. Soon the people started trickling in and having a seat the sand near the plane.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

_-2 hours after the accident-_

When the pilot called everyone over, it took a while to get the people from around the beach. Kurt stood next to Blaine, a protective arm around the shorter boy's waist. Mercedes held a sleepy Devin's hand. Everyone else made their way over until they formed a scattered and shaken group near the luggage pile.

"Okay, I would appreciate it if you all would take a seat," Will Shuester, the pilot, said. Everyone obeyed him, and he started back up again when the muttering stopped, "Now, I know that this may seem like some sort of nightmare, but this is reality. I am sure that we will be rescued soon enough but, for now, we all need to focus and try to keep our heads on straight." He turned to Rachel, "That means no more screaming." The girl in the animal sweater just sniffed. "Now I think we should all start with some introductions and maybe get to know each other better, because we never know how long we may be here." The people muttered a general consent, so Will took that as a good sign, "I suppose I will go first. My name is Will Schuester. I'm a pilot. I have no kids but a wife waiting for me back home." They all gave him a few nods and a couple greetings. "Okay, who's next?"

"My name is Rachel Berry. I am a performer—Broadway is my destiny—and I am single."

"My name is Tina Cohen-Chang. I'm a nurse and I am dating Mike."

"I'm Mike Chang. I'm a college student. An aspiring dancer, actually."

"My name is Mercedes Jones. I'm a mother, I work odd jobs and I am...well, I'm filing for a divorce."

"My name is Blaine Anderson. I'm an elementary school teacher and I'm engaged to Kurt here."

"My name is Kurt Hummel. I am a clothing designer."

"I am Quinn Fabray. I'm a mother and I spend most of my time with my church groups. Oh, and this is my boyfriend."

"Yeah, that's me...I'm Finn Hudson, I'm a carpenter and a father. And this is our baby; his name is Joseph."

"I'm Noah Puckerman, but call me Puck. I clean pools for a living."

"Yo, I'm Artie Abrams. I'm going to film school to be a director. Been in the chair since I was eight."

"My name is Sam Evans. I used to be a stripper, but now I'm an electrician."

"I'm Brittany. I like ducks."

"My name's Santana. I am a world-traveler and I'm a bitch. So watch it."

_-Later that night- _

Quinn was pissed off. Majorly. Not only was she stuck on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, but she was stuck with her baby, her boyfriend—who believed that he was the father of her baby—and a bunch of people she didn't want to be around. Two disgusting homosexuals, a cripple, some crazy chick, and barely a week's worth of clothes!

Yeah. All-in-all, she was pissed. She supposed that Joe would look for her when people back home realize that they're missing. Not the baby Joe, but his father, Joe Hart. She dreaded the day when she would have to tell Finn that he was not the father, but she also couldn't keep it from him any longer. She supposed that she would have enough time on this island to plan out how she would go about telling him.

*linebreak*

Kurt held Blaine close to him as they relaxed in their tent. Blaine was exhausted and passed out on the taller man's chest, but Kurt couldn't sleep. He couldn't stop all the panic and guilt from nearly swallowing him whole. He knew his dad would freak out when he heard the news and he really hoped that his heart could handle the stress. Also, Kurt couldn't help but think that it was his fault that he and his fiancé were in this mess. It was Kurt's idea to go to England, even though people told him they shouldn't. But Blaine had been so happy to go on the trip and to get away from all of the doctors and scientists and nosy reporters. Just because Blaine was one of the first gay men to have a child didn't mean that he needed to be treated like a piece of gossip for those stupid magazines!

Kurt soon realized that he wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. Gently easing Blaine down onto the blankets and placing a kiss on his curly hair, he crawled out of the small tent and walked down the sand. Kurt had previously set up one of the many tents they found in the emergency compartment of the plane for Blaine and himself, but most of the others were still working on assembling their own. Kurt was about to offer his help—he was actually quite good at stuff like that, considering he grew up under his father's instruction—when he caught sight of Will Schuester walking around the plane. The pilot had been great with organizing and calming people down, but Kurt needed to talk some things over with him.

The twenty-three-year-old rounded the body of the bent and beat-up piece of mental that was once their plane, and found the man he was searching for. "Mr. Schuester?" he called to the man, "Could I talk to you?" Will turned around and smiled at him.

"Of course. It's Kurt, right?" Kurt nodded. "Well, Kurt, you can call me Will." Kurt gave him a tired smile and took a seat in the sand beside the pilot. After a long pause, the young man finally spoke.

Kurt bit his lip, "I know you're telling people that we'll get off of this island soon, and I think you're doing a great job at keeping their spirits up, it's just...how long do you really think we'll be stuck here for?" Will shrugged and looked up at the younger man.

"I don't know... I'm sure that, when word gets to America of our disappearance, they'll start looking for us. The important thing is that—"

Kurt couldn't help but cut him off, "I know, I know all about having to keep calm and stuff, but I need to hear your professional opinion on how long. No optimistic guesses. You need to be frank with me and tell me the truth." The pale man looked at him steadily and Will nodded. "Now, how long do you think we'll be stranded here?"

Will's smiled faltered for a moment and he dusted some sand off the arm of his uniform. "To be honest, son, I don't know. I wasn't able to send a distress signal back to base because my crew jumped when they saw danger. If they made it to land, they'll get rescue sent. It could take less than a week, or maybe months…I don't know. We have enough food and supplies to last us for quite a long time, though, so don't worry." Kurt nodded and toed at the sand with his boot. "What's troubling you, Kurt?" the pilot asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Kurt took a deep breath, "I'm just worried about my fiancé, Blaine. The people here seem great and all...but I don't know how accepting they'll be—"

"I swear to you, Kurt, that I will not allow any homophobic behavior or any disrespect because of your relationship," Will assured him strongly, "If we really are stuck on this island for a while, we'll need to know how to work together." Will smiled at Kurt and clapped him on the shoulder in a masculine way. "Now, you get back to your fiancé and tell him not to worry, alright?"

The young man shifted uncomfortably, "Mr. Schuester…that isn't really what I mean. You see, Blaine...he's pregnant." Will frowned and shook his head in slight confusion.

"Kurt...I don't mean to offend you, but...did you hit your head during the crash? Maybe we should go and see Tina..." Will started to pull the young man up to his feet and lead him to the nurse's tent, but Kurt shoved his hand away, exasperated.

"I can assure you that I'm fine, Mr. Schuester. I am not making this up and this isn't a joke. Blaine and I are very much expecting a child, and he is in his third trimester," Kurt said assertively, "I just wanted to make you aware of our situation. And, if you don't believe me, you'll have a wonderful wake-up call two months from now." Kurt stood up and started to walk back to his tent, but this time Mr. Schuester stopped him.

"Look, Kurt...I just...C-congratulations...I guess." Kurt nodded and shrugged him off before continuing into his tent.

*linebreak*

Mercedes sat on the beach and watched the last bit of light sink below the horizon. Devin was in their tent sleeping, but she had too much on her mind and couldn't relax. She heard someone clear their throat behind her and turned around to see the blonde man who had talked with Devin earlier that day. What was his name, again? Seth? No, it was Sam.

"Do you mind if I join you?" He asked, grinning.

She shrugged, "Not at all." Sam sat down in the sand beside her and looked out over the ocean.

"It's a shame that we're stranded on such a beautiful island. In different circumstances this would be a perfect vacation sight," he mused, not looking at her. His voice was quiet—almost a whisper—but it was soft in an appreciative sort of way.

"That's true. I hope that means that there are people on this island," she said. Everybody seemed pretty certain that the island was deserted, but she still held onto the hope that there may be a town somewhere that Will hadn't been able to see from the plane when they were crashing.

The man nodded in agreement and they sat in silence for a while. "So why were you going to America? You're obviously from England." She looked up at him and gave him a half-smile.

"Actually I was born and raised in Ohio," she admitted and he looked pleasantly surprised.

"I went to school there, before my family lost our home and we had to move. Where did you live in Ohio?" he asked.

"A town called Westerville."

"I think that isn't too far from Lima, right?" Sam asked and she nodded. "Wow, crazy! What a small world."

Mercedes giggled a little at his enthusiasm, "Well I don't remember ever being to Lima, but it's a coincidence that we've both been around there." She dug her feet into the sand and looked out over the water again, expecting that to be the end of their conversation, but the man still continued talking.

"You never did say why you were going back," he noted. The woman shrugged a little and looked out over the waves.

"I'm afraid that it's rather personal... There were just people and things that I needed to get away from," she said, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"I'm sorry."

Mercedes smiled and nudged his arm. "There's no need to be." She shifted and began to stand, "I should get back to my tent," she said, and Sam jumped to his feet to help her up with chivalry.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asked as she brushed sand off her clothes.

She winked at him, "Whether you want to or not."

"I think I want to."

**Well there we got some Samcedes, some Klaine, and a bitchy!Quinn. Sorry for the late update. Please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_-The next morning-_

Kurt awoke slowly and shifted his arm to reach out for Blaine. When his groping hand met the cold and empty sleeping bag beside him, he sat up to blearily look around. Oh, right. Crashed their plane. Stuck on a deserted island.

Kurt kind of regretted waking up.

The stupid yellow plastic tent he was in was only big enough to fit two people, so he knew that Blaine must have already gotten up. He slowly sat up and crawled out of the tent, rubbing his eyes. Once outside, he stood and stretched and looked around. They were camped on a small beach with all of the tents fairly close together. In the middle was the fire that they had made the previous night, and that was where most of the early-risers were seated.

As Kurt made his way over to the group, he let himself gaze around at the beach. Besides the giant piece of burnt and bent-up metal buried in the sand, it was actually quite lovely. The water was a peaceful blue, and the sand was just like on one of the well-kept beaches in America. He really missed home a lot. Near the end of their touring in England, Kurt had begun to feel homesick, and now that they were on some small island in the middle of nowhere it felt like he hadn't been home in ages.

As he neared the small group, everyone turned to him. With relief, he saw Blaine relaxing in the sand, talking to Mercedes. Kurt smiled in greeting and sat down in the sand beside his fiancé, gently taking his hand and whispering, "Good morning." Blaine kissed his cheek in reply.

"How was your sleep, Kurt?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt shrugged.

"It was alright, I guess. I can't say I'm much of an outdoors kind of person, so the tent wasn't very comfortable." Mercedes nodded in agreement and then turned back to Sam beside her, who she had previously been talking to. Her son was seated beside her, and he was chewing on something.

"Do you want one, Kurt?" Blaine asked, and Kurt turned to him. He was holding out a stick of something.

"What is that?" Kurt asked in disgust.

"It's called jerky. You know, dried meat. That Schuester guy handed them out."

Kurt eyed the food suspiciously. "Do you honestly expect me to eat a stick of dried meat? That's disgusting." His fiancé just shrugged and placed the stick of meat in his lap as he continued to chew on the one he already had. "Is there anything else?" Kurt asked, looking to find that everyone around him held identical pieces of jerky.

"There is some of the emergency provision stuff, but Will says that we shouldn't waste it all." Blaine said, shrugging, "I think jerky is the only thing on the menu today." Kurt grimaced and then sighed, holding out his hand to the shorter man, who handed him his extra piece of jerky.

Suddenly, Will Shuester stood up and got their attention. "Hey guys. I know that there are still some people sleeping, but I want to make a quick announcement. Today I'm going to go and try to explore the island as best I can and, if anyone wants to join me, they are welcome to. I would also appreciate it if we could maybe get a head start on preparing a shelter and camp just in case, okay?" Everyone mumbled their agreement and Schuester sat back down beside that Rachel girl who immediately started jabbering away to the pilot.

Blaine looked up at Kurt as he was trying to pull apart the jerky. "Are you going with him?" he asked. Blaine knew that he couldn't do all that moving around in his condition, but he wasn't sure what Kurt wanted to do. The taller man shrugged and took another bite of jerky. He chewed and swallowed before answering.

"I don't know. Depends on who else goes, I guess," Kurt said thoughtfully, "And, who's going to be here to keep you company." Blaine nodded and rested his head against his fiancé's shoulder, watching the world wake up.

* * *

Quinn woke up to the sound of Joseph crying. She sighed and turned over in her sleeping bag to slap her boyfriend on the arm. He awoke with snort and sat up.

"What is it? What's going on?" he asked groggily. His hair was a mess on top of his head.

"What do you think? Get Joey and let me sleep," she ordered and turned back to bury her face in the pillow, listening as Finn grumbled something and got up to stumble out of the tent with the child.

She tried to get back to sleep, but found that she couldn't, no matter what she did. She finally sighed and turned over, gazing up at the yellow plastic roof of the small tent. She still couldn't believe her rotten luck in this situation. What had she done that God thought she deserved this? Was it because she slept with Joe Hart or was it because she was still lying about it to Finn? Quinn made a noise of annoyance as she realized she would have to come clean about it to make things right.

Well, as right as they could be in this nightmarish situation.

As she slowly rolled over and crawled out of the tent onto the sand, she could hear the voices of her fellow castaways. They were doing a multitude of things; talking, whispering, laughing, and even singing.

Quinn stood slowly and stretched before glaring at the group of them across the beach. God, she hated them right now. They were all so...clueless. Why would you be singing and laughing while stuck on a possibly deserted island? They should be doing something that could actually help them get out of this.

She really didn't want to join them, but it was either talk to them or go back into that stupid tent. Quinn slowly made her way over, composing herself to actually look like she was happy about being stranded like they were. It was something she called her 'stage face', which she used to put on during a particularly gruelling cheerleading routine. As she stood over the group of them, they all looked up at her and greeted her with a chorus of 'good morning'. She just smiled and then looked to her boyfriend.

Finn was seated beside a small, dark skinned boy and talking to the guys across from him who were both cooing over Joey in Finn's arms. She immediately recognized the men as being those gays who were engaged and quickly made her way over there.

"Hey, Finn? Can you join me over at the plane for a second?" She asked, plastering on a fake smile and completely ignoring the men.

"Sure, Quinn. Would you like to hold him, Blaine?" Finn asked, turning back to the men and offering Joey out to the man closest to him, who had been cooing over the baby as Finn talked with the taller one.

"Sure—"

"No, no, that's fine. I'll take him, Finn." Quinn cut in tersely, quickly snatching up Joey before the other person could touch him. She tried her hardest not to glare at him, only shooting him a brief look. Finn—oblivious as always—didn't seem to notice anything and merely shrugged and stood up to follow her towards the plane's wreckage.

As she rounded the edge of the crashed plane, she whirled to face him. Her blonde ponytail nearly hit her boyfriend in the face. "What were you doing?" she barked.

"Woah, okay, scary-Quinn," Finn said, taken aback. "What did I do now?" he asked with a sigh.

"Finn! You can't just let those...things get near our son!" she said accusingly.

Finn frowned in confusion before looking even more astonished. "Things? Have you ever even talked to those guys? They're actually pretty cool. And I think you and Kurt could find some things to relate on, maybe—"

"Do not," she hissed, "Compare me to him."

Finn threw his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't have any beef with them 'cause they're gay. So, if you don't like them, then don't talk to them. But, you can't stop me from talking to whoever I want to talk to."

"I don't care about you! I just don't want my son near them!" Quinn said, her voice rising to almost a yell. Joey started to squirm in her arms.

"He's my son too, Quinn!" Finn yelled back.

"You wish," she sneered, and Finn froze.

He looked at her with steady brown eyes before saying softly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What? Oh...I just...I just meant that since I carried and gave birth to him, I should have a larger say in how he is raised," she said quickly, trying to recover her slip-up.

"Quinn... Fine. Okay? You can keep Joey away from them if you want to, but I'm not going to be prejudiced against them." Quinn nodded and then took a deep breath, hoisting her ten-month-old further up on her hip before she turned and walked past him to the group, leaving Finn to follow her.

**So, what do you think? Please review!**


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